When Darkness Calls
by downtonabbey15
Summary: When a family emergency calls Mrs. Knight away, Kendall is left in charge of himself and Logan. Logan gets sick, and suddenly Kendall isn't sure he knows what he's doing anymore. But when a worrying secret about his friend is revealed, Kendall realizes that he isn't as grown up as he'd like to think. And sometimes...adult intervention is required. NO SLASH! Contains self-harm.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So this is my first time in the BTR fandom...I'm not even sure if this is a very active fandom anymore, but I'm still a total kid and love the show, and I'd had this idea for a while, so I figured I'd try it!**

 **NOTE: For all of my super awesome, devoted readers of my other stories- None of my stories (i.e., Downton Abbey, Jurassic World, Newsies, The Walking Dead, Alvin and the Chipmunks, etc.) have been discontinued. My schedule has been absolutely CRAZY this year, and I haven't had much inspiration to write. But rest assured, no I have not fallen off the edge of the earth, and yes I will continue writing all of them. Just give me some time and hopefully the juice fountain will start flowing again.**

 **But on a more positive-ish note...A NEW STORY! BECAUSE ALL SMART PEOPLE START NEW STORIES WHEN THEY HAVE 5+ UNFINISHED ONES...this was supposed to be a simple Logan sickfic, but it went a little crazy...anyway, I hope you guys like it!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Kendall Knight was about 90% positive that whoever had created chemistry had to be on drugs.

Because why in the heck did he care how long it would take to remove one molecule at a time from a spoon filled with distilled water?! **(1)**

Kendall leaned his face into his palm, staring hopelessly at his notebook. Most of the other students in his class were scribbling away, and Kendall couldn't help but feel like an idiot. But, in his defense, this stuff _wasn't_ easy. At least, not for someone like him, who wasn't scientifically gifted.

The teacher blabbed on endlessly about everything and nothing, and Kendall was fighting sleep when the bell rang shrilly, cutting the middle-aged woman off mid-sentence.

She sighed, setting down her marker and turning to face the class. "Alright everyone. I want pages 28 and 29 of that packet done for tomorrow. And don't forget about your lab report as well. I want it in my stack tray as soon as you step foot in the door." Hearing the class groan, she rolled her eyes. "If you didn't want to do the work, you shouldn't have taken the class!"

Kendall scoffed. Honours chemistry was _required_. How did his genius teacher think they were supposed to get around that? _If the freakin' guidance counselor would've let me drop it like I'd wanted to, I wouldn't_ _have_ _to worry about doing the work,_ he thought, grabbing his school bag and merging into the line of students pressing to get out the door.

Logan Mitchell set his Pre-Calc book neatly in his locker and closed the door, jumping when Kendall's face appeared from behind the door.

" _Why_ do you _do that_?!" Logan said, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Where were you at lunch today?" Kendall demanded, brushing Logan's fright aside.

Logan hesitated. "I was in the library." He began to head in the direction of the buses, Kendall keeping up stride with him.

"Why? Dude, Carlos is on vaycay. You left me with just James. We ran out of stuff to talk about after like, thirty seconds. And I did _not_ want to discuss the differences between Pantene and Aussie."

"I had work to do."

"For what?"

"...English..."

Kendall scoffed. "Dude, it's Friday. No one does work on a Friday."

"I do."

Kendall rolled his eyes, then paused. "Wait, what's the English homework?"

"That essay. For On the Beach."

Kendall's eyes widened. "Oh, crap, is that due Tuesday?!"

Logan nodded, but felt instantly guilty for lying. The essay wasn't due Tuesday. It wasn't due for another week and a half. And he hadn't been in the library, either. But Kendall didn't need to know that.

"Aw, darn it," his blond friend whined. "There goes my weekend."

When Logan respond, Kendall grew concerned. "You good?"

Logan's gaze remained slightly downcast towards the floor as they walked, and he gave no indication that he'd heard Kendall speak.

"Loge?"

Logan's head snapped up. "What?"

"Are you good? You're out of it."

Logan nodded. "I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing..."

Logan hurried ahead of him. Kendall knew better than to press. After all, Logan had only been living with the Knights for about two months now. And after the brutal custody battle between Mrs. Knight and Mr. Mitchell, and what Logan had gone through _prior_ to that, Kendall couldn't blame him for being a little standoffish.

Logan never went into detail about his childhood, and Kendall and the other guys never asked him. What Kendall did know was that Logan's mother had left them when he was just a child, and Mr. Mitchell had not taken kindly to it. Logan never said it, but Kendall knew he'd been beaten before. Minnesota was so quiet; it was almost impossible that Logan had received the multiple bruises he showed up with from the walk to school.

Kendall trekked after him, reaching the bus after a few minutes. The two boys rode home in silence, and when they arrived at Kendall's house, Logan headed straight for his room. Kendall dropped his bag in the foyer and made for the kitchen.

"Hey mom," he said upon entering.

Mrs. Knight looked up from the kitchen counter, where she was sorting through a pile of papers, pens, and other miscellaneous objects. "Hi, honey," she said, preoccupied. "How was school?"

"Boring."

Mrs. Knight chuckled. "Boring's good. Where's Logan?"

"Upstairs."

Kendall's mother finally located her car keys in the mess and made for the front door, grabbing her purse along the way. "I have to run over to the store real quick, and then pick up Katie, okay? What would you boys like me to grab for dinner?"

Kendall shrugged. "Pizza's fine with me." He turned in the direction of the stairs and leaned against the railing. "Hey, Logan!" He practically screamed. No answer. Kendall rolled his eyes and turned back to his mother. "He's probably fine with pizza."

Again, she chuckled. "Alright. I'll only be about an hour, okay?"

Kendall nodded. "Bye," he called, seeing her out and locking the front door behind her. He took the stairs lazily, dragging his feet.

"Logan?"

Again, no response.

Kendall reached the top of the stairs, and a quick glance in their shared bedroom told him that Logan hadn't even entered the room yet. Confused, Kendall called out again.

"Logan?"

A sliver of light coming from under the bathroom door caught Kendall's attention. He knocked. Before he could call out, something clattered in the bathroom. _That_ wasn't right.

"Logan? You okay?"

No answer.

Kendall hesitated, then tried the door handle. Locked.

"Logan?" He banged on the door. "Hey, Logan, you alright?"

The door was suddenly yanked open, and Logan appeared, slightly flustered. " _What_?"

"You weren't answering," Kendall said.

"Kendall, I was _peeing_."

"Then what was that noise?"

"...What noise?"

"That clatter. What was it?"

"...The comb was on the counter...I bumped into it and knocked it off. Chill, Kendall."

Kendall raised his arms defensively as Logan brushed past him in the direction of their shared bedroom. "Hey, I was just checking! Geez, what's up your butt?"

"Uh, nothing, thank you."

Kendall chuckled, brushing the incident off. "Mom went out, but she's bringing dinner back. You good with pizza?"

Logan shrugged. "I don't care."

Suddenly the front door flew open, and Mrs. Knight came rushing in. She tossed her purse on the bench by the door, slammed it shut, and began hurrying up the stairs.

"Mom?" Kendall asked, coming to the top of the stairs. He moved aside so she could get by as she hurried into her bedroom. "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Knight was opening her closet and pulling out her suitcase. She set it on the bed and unzipped it. "Your aunt just called." She sounded as though she were near tears. She grabbed two pairs of pants from the dresser. "Apparently, your grandmother was rushed to the hospital this morning."

Kendall felt his heart sink. His mother's family lived in Cincinnati, and though Kendall didn't get to see her much, his grandmother was always kind to him. "Is she gonna be okay?"

Mrs. Knight shook her head. "Rose didn't tell me anything. Just that they want me home as soon as I can." She grabbed a few shirts from the closet and tossed them into the bag. Then she turned to face Kendall. "I already called Mrs. Geisinger. That's who Katie's staying with. She says she can keep her with them for the next few days." She looked pointedly at her son with an expression of worry that he wasn't used to seeing. "Can I trust you boys to stay here by yourselves?"

Kendall nodded. "Yeah."

"Because I _can_ just take you over to Mrs. Diamond. She wouldn't mind taking care of you."

"Mom, you can leave us here. We'll be fine." He glanced back at Logan, who at this point had come into the hallway. "Right Logan?"

Logan nodded.

Mrs. Knight closed the suitcase. "Alright...just- No parties. No groups of people over. _Stay inside._ Don't go wandering around town by yourselves. And get to school on time."

"Will you be back soon?" Kendall asked.

"I don't know," his mother answered. "I hope, but I don't know. It all depends on how your grandmother is." She grabbed the bag off the bed and carried it into the hallway, setting it down by the steps. She hurried into Katie's room and grabbing the girl's pink backpack from the bed, began stuffing clothes into it. Mid-movement she stopped.

"Alright...you mind _everything_ that I said, you hear me? No answering the door. Answer the phone _only_ if you know who it is. Mrs. Diamond's number is on the fridge, and if there's _any_ emergency at all, you don't hesitate to call 911, you understand?"

Kendall had to resist the urge to chuckle. "Mom, I'm fifteen. I know what to do if something goes wrong."

"..."

"Which it _won't_."

Mrs. Knight closed Katie's backpack and exhaled shakily. "This is _so_ against my better judgement." She exited the room with the bag and grabbed her suitcase. "Alright...I'm running this over to Katie, and then I'm headed to the airport. Just... _please_ don't burn the house down."

"Mom, we'll be _fine_ ," Kendall insisted.

"I'm leaving you in charge...so _please_ don't make me regret it." She kissed his cheek and hurried to Logan, doing the same but lingering long enough to whisper, "Make sure he doesn't screw up."

The fourteen-year-old chuckled.

Mrs. Knight hurried down the stairs. Grabbing her purse from the bench, she opened the door. "I love you two. Please be safe."

Kendall gave her a typical teenager look that said, _enough already_.

Mrs. Knight closed the door behind her, and Kendall and Logan remained at the top of the staircase in silence for a few moments, before Logan headed off into their room.

Kendall remained at the steps. What was his mom's issue anyway? I mean, he and Logan were like, almost at adulthood...sort of. It was a few days on their own.

They would be _fine_.

* * *

 ** _(1) A legitimate chemistry problem I had during my Honours Chem class last year...don't even get me started._**

 **Okay, well I hope you guys liked that chapter! Hopefully the next one will be up soon! Please review and tell me what you thought!**

 **-downtonabbey15**


	2. Chapter 2

Friday positively, absolutely, without a fraction of a doubt, completely sucked for Kendall.

As if failing a History and Trig test one after the other wasn't enough, he completely forgot about his chemistry lab; so there went another 20 points down the drain, in addition to the 160 he had just practically thrown away with those tests.

Goodbye C average.

Hello, terrible GPA.

And as if the world didn't already trash him enough, for one final sucker punch, Logan went completely AWOL for English class...the _only_ class that the two boys had together, and the _only_ class where Kendall could somewhat (but not much) shamefully sponge off Logan's work for a semi-decent grade. Without Logan, Kendall was stuck with only his 40-year-old, paperback, about-to-spontaneously-combust copy of  On the Beach, a book that literally made his brain hurt. Because, come on, bottom line: the world _didn't_ erupt into nuclear war back in the 60s, so what was the point in reading a book about what could've but _didn't_ happen?

 _"This is the way the world ends..._

 _This is the way the world ends..._

 _This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper_." **(1)**

Yeah, Kendall was pretty sure his world was going to end not with a whimper but a bang; courtesy of a big fat "0" on his report card. How was he supposed to write a monologue about this thing?! He didn't do monologues, and he was darn sure Logan didn't either. So even if his adopted brother _was_ here, he wouldn't be able to help him.

Speaking of which, where in the _heck_ was Logan?

The only other time Kendall had seen him was on the bus that morning, so he was _somewhere_ in the building. But he was supposed to be here, helping Kendall, and letting him copy his work. So where _was_ he?

He'd been at lunch. He'd been silent, but present none the less, opting to read whatever book he had this week instead of talking with Kendall and James. It hadn't struck Kendall as odd; Logan _was_ generally a quiet person. But he'd missed English today, and lunch the day before.

So, yeah...Kendall was uneasy.

He didn't see Logan until the end of the day, when he boarded the bus and found the younger boy curled up against the window, hood drawn over his head and back to the aisle Kendall was currently blocking.

"Logan?"

Logan looked up at him with tired eyes. "Hey."

Kendall dropped down into the seat, throwing his empty backpack (because really: why take work home when you can do it _in class_? He'd tried to tell his mother that it was enhancing his multitasking skills, but she didn't buy it.) on the ground beneath his feet.

"Where were you in English?"

"Ms. Tucker notice? That I was gone?"

"No."

"Then it doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. Logan, you went completely AWOL. That's not nothing." Kendall raised his voice as Terrible Tom the bus driver (he had a knack for attracting potholes...and small rodents,) started the vehicle's engine.

"I just skipped, that's all."

Kendall scoffed. "Yeah, okay. You: Mr. Straight 'A' Grammar Corrector decided to skip." He fixed him with a harsh gaze. "Did you get cornered? Is someone bothering you?"

" _What? No,_ I didn't get _cornered_!"

"Is someone bothering you?"

" _No!_ Kendall, I just felt like skipping, that's all!"

After a moment, Kendall threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright, fine! If you're gonna bite my head off about it." He removed his phone and earbuds from his backpack and put them in, blocking out the sounds of the younger children squealing and Logan's silence.

* * *

The evening was spent in a tense silence, with Logan remaining in the bedroom for most of it. Kendall stayed downstairs, alternating between playing video games in both the living room and the basement. James snuck over around seven o'clock, after his family had eaten dinner and he knew his absence wouldn't be noticed. He tried to coax Logan from the bedroom, but the younger boy remained unmoving, and James eventually gave up and returned to Kendall.

The two played on Kendall's PS3 non-stop until about ten o'clock, at which point, James left to hurry and make it home before his parents found out that he was gone. Kendall went back to his game on his own, and by 11:30, got bored and decided to turn in.

He'd only been asleep for a few hours when a loud crash startled him awake. He flicked on the lamp by his bed, wincing at the light.

"Logan," he whispered. "What was that?"

When his friend didn't answer, Kendall peered at his bed, and realized that it was vacant.

Kendall reached for his phone, peering at the lit up numbers it displayed.

 _4:27._

 _What the heck?_

Where was Logan? And what the heck had happened downstairs?

Kendall pushed back his blankets and rose quietly, hurrying out the door and into the hallway. The hallway was dimly lit, but from the top of the steps he could see the kitchen light was on, as it lit up the doorway and a part of the living room. Relieved as he realized no thief would turn on a light, Kendall hurried down the stairs. He crossed the living room to the kitchen doorway, then stopped dead in his tracks.

At the opposite end of the kitchen by the sink and refridgerator, a glass lay shattered in a puddle of water. Next to the broken glass lay Logan, sprawled out, eyes closed.

Kendall's heart stopped.

Any irritation he'd had earlier melted rapidly as his feet unfroze and he felt himself choke out his brother's name.

" _Logan_..."

He stumbled over to the brunette and fell to the ground beside him, carefully avoiding the broken glass. "Logan," he said urgently, shaking him. What the heck had happened? Did Logan fall? Was that it? Had he been getting a glass of water, and he slipped...maybe hitting his head on the counter? _No_ , Kendall thought. Logan wasn't close enough to the counter.

So then what _had_ happened?

"Logan!" Kendall grabbed a hold of Logan's shoulder and shook him, and suddenly, he realized what had happened.

Logan was _burning up_. Kendall could feel the unnatural heat through Logan's shirt, and when he rested his hand against his forehead, it was confirmed. He must've passed out...probably cracked his head on the ground too by the looks of it...great.

Kendall stood carefully, trying to keep away from the spilt water. "Alright, Loges," he said, even though Logan couldn't hear him. "You gotta help me here. I can't carry you."

Okay, that was a lie. Logan was at least a head shorter than him, and painfully skinny. Kendall could carry him along with another person his size if he really wanted to. But if Logan was in any possibility coherent, and he knew that Kendall had carried him like a bride over a threshold, he'd never be able to live it down. So Kendall settled for gently sitting his friend up, looping Logan's arm around his shoulder, and hauling him to his feet.

Even with a hand around his waist and an arm under his shouder, Kendall still had a difficult time getting Logan to the couch. His limp body was hard to control, and Kendall nearly sent them both crashing to the ground twice in the short journey. He dropped Logan down onto the couch, put his legs up onto the cushions, and covered him with an old blanket that they'd bought a few years back when Mrs. Knight had decided a "road trip" would be "fun." It was grey, and not a very tasteful decoration to have draped over their living room couch, but it was warm, and at the moment that was all that mattered.

Kendall pressed his hand to Logan's forehead again, and he inwardly cursed. Their thermometer was in the bathroom upstairs, and he didn't want to leave Logan alone, even if it was only for a few seconds. But Kendall didn't need the thermometer to know that Logan's temperature was high. He hurried to the left of the stairs, where a small linen closet, a bit out of place, sat. Mrs. Knight had wanted it there for emergencies, and while Kendall and his father had thought it odd at the time, now he was grateful.

The top shelf was stocked with washcloths, and Kendall wasted no time in grabbing one, wetting it under the kitchen sink, and laying it across Logan's forehead. It wasn't much, but it was the most he could do until Logan regained consciousness enough to take something.

With that, Kendall headed back into the kitchen to clean up the glass, being careful to keep the couch in his line of sight.

* * *

 **(1)** On the Beach-by Nevil Shute

 **Sooooo, what'd you guys think? I hope you liked it! More angst to come, lol!**

 **Please review!**

 **-downtonabbey15**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Oh my gosh...hey guys! So, it's been over two years since I've updated this thing...it hardly seems like that but oh well...I'm so so sorry to all of you who like this! I promise it's still going! It's going to be a bit shorter than I intended because I'm already planning for a sequel, but this story is definitely back up and running. It's been so long, and I'm worried the BTR fandom isn't as active anymore, so I hope some of you still read this. I know I owe you guys an explanation so...**

 **I've been having a really hard time lately. Well, literally since I last posted this. I won't go into detail because you guys don't need to be burdened with all of that, but writing used to be my escape from pretty much everything and for some reason, lately it's like I _can't write._ I don't know what it is, but I'm really trying to keep my stories updated and everything. I just feel like I have no passion for anything and I think I'm really depressed now for some reason, so please bare with me. I'm trying. **

**Enough of all that though. CHAPTER THREE! Good gracious it's been so long, but here's some more angst for you all! Enjoy!**

* * *

He'd been in what some might deem excruciating pain countless times before now, of course.

Considering one of his favorite activities was hockey, (and he was literally checked at least half a dozen times per _game_ ,) he had grown accustomed to periodically feeling as though he'd collided with a brick wall. But when Logan eventually regained consciousness, he felt as though he were _dying_. In fact, he was quite sure he'd been thrown off the back of a speeding vehicle and then trampled by a herd of elephants, because he couldn't imagine anything else could possibly make him feel this bad.

He'd barely regained awareness when the pain in his back surfaced, and his eyes snapped open as he arched up from the couch he was now lying on. It took him a moment to get his bearings. Hadn't he been in his own bed? And he'd gone to get water, and he'd meant to sit down because he really hadn't been feeling all that steady, and then...oh yeah. He passed out cold like a _girl_ in a 1930s horror flick. As if he didn't already want to crawl into a hole most of the time anyway...

He figured he'd landed on his back based on how sore he currently was. Thank God. He'd rather a sore back than a busted up nose; (Those hurt way worse, he knew. Another courtesy of hockey...). With a grimace, he sat up and breathed heavily as the room began to spin. His hand flew to his head as his vision swam, and he said a silent prayer of thanks when the room began to piece itself back together in his focus. He sighed and swung his legs over the edge of the couch, then turned towards the kitchen when he heard a noise.

"Kendall?"

His friend was on his hands and knees in the kitchen, one hand wrapped in a towel as he gingerly grabbed what looked like shards of glass off the floor, before placing them in a plastic bag in front of him. He jolted and his eyes snapped upwards upon hearing Logan's voice.

"Hey," he said quickly, dropping the glass he was holding along with the towel and stepping quickly over the mess to hurry into the living room. "You all right?" he asked, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder and peering closely at him.

Logan lowered his head when he realized his eyes still couldn't quite focus. Blearily, he nodded. "How long was I out?"

Kendall shook his head. "Like, ten minutes, maybe."

"Sorry if I woke you."

Kendall scoffed. "You should've woke me earlier," he scolded. "Why didn't you tell me you felt so bad?" He began to ascend the stairs, heading to retrieve the thermometor from the upstairs bathroom.

"I didn't feel that bad until I woke up," Logan protested weakly. Kendall didn't answer, already having reached the second floor and moving towards the bathroom. Logan sighed, his eyes traveling to the mess of glass on the kitchen floor.

He guiltily realized he must have dropped his cup of water when he passed out, and said cup was now scattered across the kitchen floor in dangerous shards. Boy, wasn't he great? He upset their lives enough, first with trying to conceal the torment of his biological home, then by moving in with them, as if poor Mrs. Knight didn't already have enough to worry about, what with raising two kids on her own with a fairly meager budget. And now he was ruining what few material possessions they had.

 _Great job, Logan. As always..._

He pushed himself up using the armrest of the couch and stood shakily, then headed slowly for the kitchen. Wavering a bit before dropping to his knees beside the glass, he resumed the task Kendall had started. He didn't bother with the towel, instead using his bare hands to grab the shards, which weren't even that sharp. He'd nearly finished when he heard Kendall clomp back down the stairs behind him.

"What are you doing?" came the accusatory question almost immediately.

Logan coughed a bit before turning to answer. "I'm cleaning this up."

"Logan," Kendall started, setting something down on the side table by the couch and coming to his side. "You're _sick_."

"And I broke this, so I'm cleaning it up."

"Y-..." Kendall stopped, staring at him a bit incredulously. "Logan," he said. "You're _sick._ I don't expect you to clean this up, okay? I expect you to go upstairs and rest and let me take care of you."

"You don't have to," Logan said quietly, leaning back to sit on his heels.

"I want to," Kendall replied. "And I _need_ to. You're my brother and it's my job." He sighed and took a hold of Logan's arm carefully. "Come on," he said firmly. "Upstairs."

Logan reluctantly began to rise, then stumbled and abruptly sank back down to the ground. "I think the floor's better right now," he mumbled, eyes closing as the world began to spin once more.

Okay, scratch mere concern, Kendall was officially and thoroughly worried now. Logan had gone even paler except for the deep flush on his cheeks, and he looked like he was going to keel over once again.

Kendall pressed a hand to the back of his friend's head and gently lowered it closer to the ground. "Keep it between your knees," he ordered, and Logan obeyed silently.

They stayed like that for a while, before Logan raised his head and peered up at Kendall with bleary eyes. "Couch?"

Kendall nodded. "Yeah, sure. Come on." He crouched and gently grabbed Logan's arm again, this time slinging it over his shoulder before hauling him to his feet. He steadied Logan as he swayed, waiting until the shorter boy nodded before helping him to the couch.

Logan wouldn't lay down, instead opting for sitting and ducking his head between his knees once more. Kendall grabbed the thermometer off the end table and crouched by his friend's side. He nudged his shoulder. "Here."

Logan accepted the object slowly, placing it under his tongue before cradling his head in his hands again. Kendall stood uneasily beside him, arms crossed over his chest as he waited. The device beeped a few seconds later, and Logan didn't even bother examining it himself, another worrisome sign pointing towards how awful he must have been feeling. He removed it from his mouth and immediately extended it to Kendall, who took it and peered closely at the numbers in the dim light.

 _103.2?!_

"Logan..." he said quietly.

Logan didn't even raise his head. "What is it?"

"...It's high."

Logan seemed to contemplate Kendall's response carefully for a few moments, before promptly flopping back to lay on the couch. He slung a hand over his eyes as his dizziness only intensified. "It'll be fine." He received no answer, and uncovered his eyes just enough to look up at Kendall. "What?"

Kendall hesitated. "Maybe we should go over to the Diamonds'." Actually, he'd really rather the Garcias, considering James' mother could give the Hulk a run for his money when it came to her so called "nurturing". But of course, Carlos and his family had to be on _vacation_ right now.

"We don't need to."

"Logan, I'm not a doctor," Kendall protested. "You're really sick and I don't know what to do."

Logan sighed tiredly. "Just...it's fine right now, okay? If I think we need help I'll tell you."

"You won't. I know you and you won't say a word."

"I _will_ ," Logan promised. "As long as it stays under 104, it's fine."

"And if it doesn't, I can call someone?"

Clearly he wasn't going to win; although really, no one ever won when they were against Kendall. "Yeah, sure."

Kendall nodded, still clearly uneasy. But it was almost five in the morning and he was tired, and didn't feel like arguing the case any further. He sighed. "What do you need me to do right now?"

"Just go to bed, I'll be fine."

Kendall looked at him incredulously. "Logan, I'm not gonna leave you down here."

"It's late."

"…It's after five. I'd be up in a bit anyway."

Logan didn't say anything, knowing that Kendall was only trying to make him feel better. None of them _ever_ got up before 6:30 unless they absolutely had to. He let his eyes drop guiltily to the blanket he'd pulled over his legs.

Kendall sighed a bit, flopping down in the rocking chair adjacent to the couch and pulling his phone from his pocket. "Logan," he said, realizing that the younger boy was still wearing the same expression. "Chill. Just go back to sleep, okay? I'm fine here."

Logan nodded a bit dazedly before letting his head drop back on the pillow. Kendall's gaze returned to his phone as he began scrolling through his news feed.

"Kendall?"

"Yeah?"

"...Thanks."

He smiled lightly as Logan's eyes began to drift closed. "No problem, buddy."

* * *

"Kendall..."

The plea pulled Kendall from a blissful sleep and he startled awake, instantly regretting his quick movements as the springs of the rocking chair dug painfully into his back. He grunted, pushing himself up from the so-called "cushion" and wincing as his back cracked. He and Katie had been begging their mother for _months_ to get a new chair, or at the very least get rid of their current one. He was sure the Smithsonian would love it...

He rubbed his eyes groggily, annoyed at whatever had pulled him from a truly fantastic dream where he had been teaching a group of teenage girls how to play hockey...

"Kendall..."

He hadn't even realized he'd drifted off again until his eyes snapped open, and he suddenly remembered _why_ he was curled up in a twisted blob on what was likely the oldest torture relic from the medieval era. He sat up, eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as they fell on the couch.

"Logan," he said quietly, standing and hurrying to his side. "What's the matter?"

Logan had a shaking hand over his eyes and lay drenched in sweat. He somehow looked even worse than he had just a short while ago. Kendall's cool hand was immediately on his forehead, and Logan exhaled shakily at the comforting gesture.

"C-can you get me ibuprofen?" he asked quietly.

"Is it your head?"

He nodded.

Kendall was glad his friend couldn't see the clear uneasiness on his face. Logan didn't feel any warmer than earlier, but he looked ten times worse and he certainly hadn't been in this much pain. His worry only intensified.

"Do you want me to call the Diamonds?"

"No..."

"But I'm pretty sure you hit your head when you fell, and if it hurts this bad, then-"

"Kendall," Logan interrupted, sitting up shakily and leaning on his elbow so he could look his friend in the face. "I have a migraine. I thought that's what it was when I woke up and that's why I passed out and the fever's so high."

Okay, that really didn't make him feel any better. He'd seen Logan with a migraine before and it had never looked this bad. Of course, it had always been his mom that dealt with it and not him, but still...

"But you look like you need a hospital," Kendall insisted.

"There's nothing the hospital can do that we can't. Except make us go broke." He gingerly flopped back down on the pillow but winced nonetheless as his head made contact with the cushion. "Just...get me some ibuprofen or something and I'll be fine."

Kendall unfroze, hurrying from his spot by the couch and to the stairs. "Okay," he muttered. "I'll be right back."

He headed once again to the upstairs bathroom, switching on the light and pulling open the mirror to examine the medicine cabinet. The choices were scarce; some old eyedrops, heartburn medication, and some medicated lotion for dry skin among other things. No Tylenol, no ibuprofen. Kendall tried in vain to remember the last time he'd even seen a bottle of either, but came up blank. Great. Just great.

He hurried into his own room, flicking on the light and surveying he and Logan's separate dressers for any pill bottles, but again, nothing. He thought hard for a second, then grabbed Logan's school bag from where it was hanging on the back of a chair. His friend usually kept a bottle of something or other in there for any hockey injuries, something the other three were grateful for, considering they barely remembered their names half the time. Kendall fished around a bit blindly, too lazy to aim the bag towards the light. He heard the bottle rattling, if he could just-

His fingers brushed against something cold and hard. His brow furrowed, and he closed his fingers around the object carefully before pulling it out into the light. He was about 99% sure his heart stopped.

A _razor blade?_

Why the _heck_ would Logan have a _razor blade_?

The object gleamed in the light from the ceiling fan as Kendall held it with a shaking hand. His eyes rose slowly to the door, knowing that he'd already been gone too long and that Logan could very well come in search of the medication himself if he didn't hurry up. His gaze flickered nervously back to the metal tool in his hand.

There had to be a perfectly logical explanation. The blade was clean, shining like a brand new penny, so it couldn't have been used for...certainly not anything Kendall was thinking. How stupid could he be? This was _Logan._ Logan Mitchell, who wanted to be a doctor. Logan Mitchell, who kept the other three from doing what would likely be incredibly dangerous things. Logan Mitchell, who was literally a _mom; 'You could break your leg, Carlos.' 'James, if you keep combing your hair at this rate you're going to develop arthritis.' 'You should really read these nutrition facts, Kendall, they're really eye opening.'_

Logan Mitchell...who had a razor blade in his schoolbag.

Kendall again realized he'd been gone far too long, and quickly found and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen before putting Logan's bag back in place. He looked uncertainly at the razor. What if Logan needed it for a project or something, and that's why he had it? Maybe it was like...some sort of art thing, and that's why he had it. Or he found it and meant to throw it away. Or...or he was-

Kendall bit his lip harshly because _no_. That was absolutely not a possibility. Logan was not...he wasn't cutting himself. It would be dangerous and stupid and reckless and Logan was way too smart for that. Things had been awful lately, Kendall knew that. The custody fight and the legal process had taken an emotional toll on his friend but...Logan would come to them if he was seriously in trouble, right? He would come to him, or Carlos, or James, or his mom or _someone_ instead of cutting his own skin...wouldn't he?

... _Of course he would, you idiot._

Despite his own reassurances, Kendall slipped the blade into his pocket. It couldn't hurt to ask, right? Just to confirm there was nothing wrong. He _knew_ there was a logical explanation.

Exhaling a bit shakily, he hurried from the room and headed downstairs, unscrewing the lid of the bottle and extending it to Logan when he reached the couch. The shorter boy took it gladly, uttering a "Thanks" before popping two of the pills dry. Kendall took the bottle back silently, praying his face didn't betray him. He couldn't help but stare at Logan's arms, crossed back over his eyes and covered by the boy's long sleeved pajama shirt. He couldn't see anything, and for a moment he actually considered asking Logan up front about the blade.

He dropped back down into the rocking chair, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. He couldn't do that. Kendall had no problem with confrontation. Just about everyone in their small town knew that if he had an issue, he wouldn't stay silent for long. He'd been reprimanded on more than one occasion after confronting both kids his own age _and_ adults if he thought something was unjust or wrong. And the rule applied to his friends. If he thought something was the matter, he would pull them aside, ask them straight up and dig until he got to whatever the root of the problem was. It was a known fact among the four of them. Privacy almost didn't exist, at least if Kendall was involved.

But Logan was the complete opposite. He respected people's space unless he thought they were in danger or something. He didn't pry, didn't beg to be told what was going on, didn't chastise until they caved like Kendall sometimes did. He waited, and if the person came to him, great. If they didn't, and if it bugged him, he never let it show.

He didn't divulge things about his own life, either. Kendall had a tough time getting him to talk about _anything_ regarding himself. James was usually pretty open. A serious problem took a bit more digging, but he eventually caved. Carlos was an open book, spilling anything and everything he felt the moment he felt it. Logan just...he never wanted to talk. At least about himself, anyway. It had taken Kendall months to practically drag the details of his home life out of him, and even then, the entire experience had been awful for him. Kendall was sure an angry confrontation just after a migraine wouldn't be very helpful.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, letting his eyes alternate between Logan's dosing form and his cell phone. It must have been about half an hour before Logan fell asleep, and Kendall could tell the medication and the headache had really knocked him out this time. His right arm fell by his side and hung loosely.

Kendall knew he shouldn't have done it. A major prying session was one thing, but literally checking his best friend's wrists while he was passed out on the couch was like, well...he was sure it was all kinds of wrong. It was a major invasion of privacy at the very least. But he couldn't help himself. Light was finally streaming through the windows, and Logan was totally out, and his arm was just hanging there...

And suddenly Kendall was low on his knees and gently grasping the sleeve on Logan's right arm, pulling it up slightly and keeping his eyes on his friend's face to ensure he didn't wake. No response whatsoever. Yep, Logan was out.

Kendall returned his gaze to the thin wrist and pulled the sleeve up more, moving so he could see it in the light.

He released his hold in an instant and sat back on his heels, stunned.

 _Oh, Logan..._

* * *

 **AN: Sooooooooooo, what'd ya think? Next chapter is already in my head and sort of written, so hopefully I'll have it up soon! Please review! God bless you all!**

 **-downtonabbey15**


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Hey guys! Here's chapter 4!

First off I'd like to say a huge thank you to everyone who came back and read the last chapter. It's been over two years since I last touched this and that is absolutely not acceptable, and it stops now. You guys deserve better. Second, I want to thank **winterschild11** and **swagUPwindowsDOWN** for their super awesome support! Your words made my day and really motivated me to keep this story going. Third, I've suddenly got a lot of new ideas for some BTR stories, so hopefully, I'll have them posted pretty soon! I'm intending to start pre-writing all my stories now, in an effort to put less pressure on myself. I can't really keep an updating schedule because I'm in school and my workload is crazy, and I hate keeping you guys waiting as I have done in the past. But we'll see, lol.

Also, I'm thinking of starting a BTR request compilation! It would be all one-shots, requested by you guys! If you're interested, let me know! No slash, sex, or "risque" content, please.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Here's chapter 4!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Big Time Rush or Tumblr.

 **TRIGGER WARNING:** Heavy mentions of self-harm and suicide.

* * *

Carlos Garcia was a lot of things.

His mother said sweet, his father said brave. Kendall and James said hilarious. Logan said recklessly uninhibited. . . whatever that meant.

But he was also observant, a trait his parents had known was present from a young age.

He wasn't like Kendall; the blond wasn't one to pick up on mood changes very quickly. Rather, he'd confided in Carlos once that sometimes he just _knew_. He'd awake in the middle of the night, or he'd lay eyes on one of them and this horrible, foreboding feeling would come over him and he'd _know_. He'd analyze for a bit, see if he could tell if anything was off. And if he had reason to, he'd sit whoever it was down and pry and pull and plead until whatever it was finally came out and he could fix it, or enlist the help of the others to do so.

Carlos. . . Carlos didn't _know_. He felt like an awful friend sometimes, considering he didn't know what was going on half the time. He didn't know when something was wrong. He didn't pick up on that stuff as Kendall did. But he did pick up on moods. He'd been eerily observant since he was a kid, able to point out almost minute behavior changes that his family thought they'd hidden relatively well. The same went for his friends as they all grew older. Carlos knew when James was upset, even though the taller boy had what the others called an almost incorruptible poker face. He knew when Kendall was stressed, even when the blonde didn't show it. He'd known when Logan was literally having a panic attack right next to him in the cafeteria once, even though the brunette had been stoic and quiet and hadn't given any indication of what he was feeling at all. But he couldn't connect any of the dots. He'd recognize there may be a problem, but. . . he didn't know why. He didn't confront anyone, just quietly observed and offered a hug if he thought it was necessary. Confronting. . . that was Kendall's territory. And James' on occasion, if the problem was a bit more serious. Carlos just watched.

And yet despite what he thought of himself, it was apparent to many that Carlos knew what was going on more than the other three the majority of the time. He just. . . didn't bring it up. Didn't think that what he saw mattered.

But as he sat at the lunch table the following Monday, his gaze continuously strayed from what would have normally been an insanely enticing material supply for a mashed potato, refried bean, and meatloaf tower. Instead, he found his eyes island-hopping between his three friends.

He'd only just gotten back from vacation with his family, and while he loved his parents and his siblings dearly, he had missed guy-time. A _lot_. And he was more than ready to catch up with his best friends after a week away. Unfortunately, his first day back wasn't nearly as exciting as he'd hoped.

Logan was sick as a dog. What he'd thought was a migraine had turned into what could only have been some odd, lab-bred mutant cross between a chest cold and a sinus infection, and he literally looked like death. He'd begged Mrs. Knight (who'd returned Sunday afternoon bearing much better news than when she'd left) to let him come to school; he'd been fever free for over 24 hours by that morning, so she eventually consented, much to James' dismay. The taller boy refused to get anywhere near him, trading in his usual seat beside him to instead sit on Carlos' left, putting him directly across from Logan at the lunch table. This, Logan pointed out, actually made him more likely to catch whatever he had, because sitting across from him meant that literally all the air Logan exhaled was directly streamlined across the table and into James imaginary, germ-free bubble. James, consequently, was now sitting at a forty-five-degree angle in comparison to his original position, putting him closer to Kendall.

Kendall was...off. Carlos couldn't put his finger on it, but he was definitely off. He wasn't as talkative, instead opting for aimlessly smushing the remnants of his lunch around on the tray. He kept his eyes on Logan, staring at him as if he thought he was about to explode. Carlos wondered briefly if something had happened while he'd been away. James didn't seem any different (although he'd switched sides with his bangs that day. . . maybe that was why he was so moody) and neither did Logan, not really. At least not any different than he'd been the last few months, but that was understandable. But Kendall. . . yep. Something was going on.

Towards the end of lunch, he noticed Kendall looking intently down at his lap (Carlos knew that look, the "I'm looking at my phone and trying to text quickly before a teacher sees me" look). A mere second later, James' phone vibrated in his pocket and he reached for it, at the same time as Kendall's gaze mysteriously returned to his lunch tray. James eyed his phone, then put it back in his pocket and returned to his own food for a few seconds before discreetly glancing up at the blond with a furrowed brow. Kendall's expression was blank, but Carlos saw James eye his own phone and give the slightest nod. They immediately broke eye contact, returning to their food and the table's conversation without a hint that anything had transpired. Carlos' own eyes flickered to Logan, who was engrossed in a book resting beside his lunch tray. It was clear he hadn't noticed.

He was usually confused, but now he was pretty sure he had good reason to be.

"Sooooooo," he started, grabbing a fistful of mashed potato with his bare hand and beginning to assemble his tower "What'd I miss?"

"Homework," James answered, using his spoon to transfer a glob of his own potatoes over to his friend's tray. "We have an essay due Friday in Comp."

Carlos paled. "What?! Do you think she'll give me another week?"

"Considering you didn't tell her you were going anywhere," Logan replied. "Probably not."

Carlos pouted. He looked dejectedly at his half-finished tower, then grabbed a napkin and began to wipe his hand off. "This isn't fun anymore."

James grabbed his tray and stood. "This day isn't any fun."

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," Kendall muttered quietly, following suit along with the others.

"That's because it's Monday," Logan answered James as they made their way to the garbage. "Duh."

James reached over and flicked his ear, and Logan scoffed.

"Oh, no James! You touched me, you're gonna die!"

"AH!" James practically flung his tray at the trash can and hurried back to the table to use his hand sanitizer. Carlos and Logan laughed, and Kendall could see James laughing good-naturedly back at the table as he sanitized nonetheless, but the blonde felt unable to join in the merrymaking.

Logan was acting totally normal. He was. . . he wasn't any different than he had been lately. He was laughing, joking with the others as though nothing were wrong, even though Kendall knew that yes, something was painfully, painfully wrong. Logan was cutting his own skin to relieve his pain, and that was absolutely, 100% without a doubt, not okay with Kendall. He didn't know a whole lot on the subject, he really didn't. But there was nothing okay in it. Absolutely nothing. And the fact that Logan was hiding it this well _scared him_. It scared him senseless, actually. Logan had been upset after everything with his father, of course he had. Who wouldn't be? But. . . they were getting past it. They were working on it and Logan was getting better - wasn't he? Clearly he wasn't if he felt the need to do...that.

Had he been doing it since they'd found out? That was _months_ ago. He might've even been doing it before that. He was clearly an expert at keeping it undetected. He could've been doing it for _years_ without them knowing.

How stupid and blind and insensitive could they all possibly be?

* * *

Kendall fought to keep his hands from shaking as he waited for his teacher to sign his hall pass. Mr. Henesy smiled as he handed over the school-issued card, and gave Kendall a nod as the blonde made for the door. He hurried down the hall and around the corner, shoving the pass in his back pocket. To say he was nervous was an understatement.

He'd mulled over his worrisome discovery all weekend, too focused on making sure Logan didn't need a trip to the ER to worry about angrily confronting him about the razor. He knew he should've told his mother the minute he had the chance. He'd had more than enough opportunities since her return the previous afternoon, but even though her mother was doing much better and was deemed out of danger, Kendall hated to give her one more thing to worry about. Maybe he could fix this one himself.

Of course, he'd mulled over that decision too. He wasn't a counselor. He didn't even know anything medical-ish. That was Logan's territory. Kendall didn't wish the problem on anyone, but at the very least, if it hadn't been Logan who was hurting himself, Kendall could've spoken to him about it. He was sure Logan would have a better idea of how to handle it.

He couldn't even bear to think about telling Carlos. The boy was still far too innocent, far too naive, and Kendall didn't even know how to form the right words to tell him. He wasn't even sure how he was going to tell James. And he was only telling him because he was at a complete loss about what to do next.

He sent James the odd message towards the end of lunch; _'Meet me in the bathroom by your next class in 15. Don't tell the others.'_ The older boy had been confused, he could see it on his face when he read the message. But James seemed like he agreed, and Kendall prayed that he remembered.

He rounded another corner to push through a set of double doors that led to the stairwell. James' current class was Statistics, located on the school's first floor as opposed to Kendall's Biology class, which was on the second, and with any luck, he would already be waiting in the bathroom at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, Kendall!"

Kendall froze as he began descending the second flight of steps, just as Carlos flew through the door at the bottom of the staircase. He was clutching a textbook in his hand.

"Carlos," Kendall stuttered. "Whatcha doin'?"

Carlos gestured to the book as he jumped the steps two at a time to meet Kendall near the landing. "I forgot my book again," he laughed, rolling his eyes. His brow furrowed. "What are you doing? I thought you had Bio."

"O-oh, I do," Kendall answered. "I'm just...getting a Tums from the nurse. I'm a little queasy. I think it was that meatloaf."

Carlos quickly became concerned. "You want me to walk down with you?"

Kendall chuckled. "No thanks, Carlos. I think I can get there on my own."

"You sure? I don't mind."

Kendall nodded. "I'm sure," he insisted. He began to make his way down the rest of the stairs. "Hey, I'll see you at practice, 'kay?"

Carlos nodded, though he didn't look convinced. "See ya."

Kendall hurried through the door at the bottom of the stairwell and across the hall, chuckling a bit to himself. He was pretty much, sort of, almost an adult, and Carlos thought he needed help walking to the nurse? He shook his head amusedly, before sobering and resting a hand on the handle of the boys' bathroom door. He lifted his eyes heavenward, whispering, "Lord, please help me."

The heavy door creaked shrilly as Kendall pushed inside, then rounded the corner of the bathroom. James stood silently at one of the sinks, peering closely at himself in the mirror as he carefully combed his hair.

"Hey, dude," he said casually when he caught sight of his friend. His gaze returned to the mirror and he chuckled. "I switched sides with my bangs this morning and it literally threw me off so bad." He styled his bangs back to their original side as best he could, then glanced back at Kendall. "That look all right?"

Kendall couldn't quite muster up a smile, but he managed a brief nod. "Looks fine. Are you done?" The question was spoken as kindly as he could manage, but it came out harshly nonetheless.

James stopped abruptly, a bit confused because although Kendall was their group's de facto leader, he _never_ spoke to them like that. He was almost never bossy or snappy or harsh, not anything like how he just sounded. He suspected the words weren't meant rudely, considering they were coming from Kendall, but it put James off a bit nevertheless. "Yeah," he said a bit unsurely, taking one last look at himself before putting his comb back in his pocket. He sighed, resolved to brush the incident off. "What's up?"

Kendall scratched his head a bit nervously before glancing down to check that all the stalls were empty.

James looked at him curiously. "It's just us," he confirmed, sensing his friend's apprehension. "What did you wanna talk about?"

Kendall opened his mouth to speak but found himself completely and utterly lost. He hoped James would somehow telepathically understand what was going through his head because he wasn't sure how on earth he was supposed to explain everything. How does a person even word something like that?

He could see James was growing increasingly confused, and his expression remained blank as he attempted to hide his unease. He spoke a bit flatly, although Kendall could hear the wealth of concern behind his words. "Is it bad?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

James didn't say anything, biting his lip instead. He looked at him expectantly.

Kendall swallowed nervously. "Um. . . so, Logan was sick over the weekend."

James nodded. "Yeah?"

Another hard swallow. He supposed it was best to do it like a bandaid, horrible as it was. "I was uh. . . I was looking for something, and I thought it might be in his backpack. 'Cause of his first aid kit and everything. . . And, um. . . ." He hesitantly dug in his back pocket, biting his lip. "I found this." He held the razor blade up between his thumb and index finger, and James froze.

Kendall was pretty sure he'd never seen anyone get so pale so quickly. James turned a stark shade of white before transitioning to a sickly green. He started swallowing as though he were trying his best to not throw up on the spot.

Eventually, he shook his head quickly. "He's not."

Kendall nodded, choking out his next words as though speaking them would prove to him that yes, his best friend and basically brother was cutting his own skin for what was likely some sort of relief. Relief that clearly his friends and new household couldn't give. "He is."

"It's clean," James protested. "He didn't use it."

"He cleans _everything_ ," Kendall argued. ". . . And I've seen his arms, James."

Clearly, James would not be pursuing a career in the medical field, because he turned, if possible, even whiter _and_ greener at the comment as dark images began to fill his mind. He tried not to wonder what his best friend's wrists could possibly look like if the horrible expression on Kendall's face was any indication. It took a while for the confirmation to sink in, and James had to fight to resist the urge to slide down the wall and put his head between his knees. He felt _sick_.

"Does Carlos know?"

Kendall shook his head. "I don't...I don't wanna scare him."

James exhaled and nodded a bit in understanding. It wasn't the 18th century; people hurt themselves, and they all knew it. They'd all sat through the mental health speeches in class like every other youth in the country. They knew that people were depressed, others were anxious, some thought about. . . killing themselves. But James had never known someone who cut, neither had Kendall, and he was about 100% sure Carlos hadn't. This was serious. This was really, _really_ serious, and James seemed to understand Kendall's point. Carlos was innocent. He still laughed at almost everything. He brightened a room just by entering. And maybe it was selfish, but they needed that. They needed Carlos to stay Carlos for as long as he could before he found out how much the world could really suck. And this...yeah, they definitely didn't want him finding out about this.

"Did you tell your mom?"

Kendall shook his head. "No."

". . .Kendall, you have to tell her."

"He doesn't even know I know! I don't want to ambush him, James."

"Kendall. . . ." James began to run his hands through his hair. He took a step towards his friend so they were only a few inches apart. "He's slicing his own _skin_. This isn't something we can deal with, okay? He needs to see someone. He-"

"He won't wanna do that."

"Then we'll _force him_. Kendall, what if he hits a vein?" James swallowed hard, as though the words he'd spoken had only just set in. "You have to tell."

"I was gonna talk to him tonight," the blonde answered. "I didn't want to over the weekend 'cause he was so sick, but. . . I was going to after practice today."

James nodded. "And I get that. Talk to him, but then tell your mom. Tell him that's what you're gonna do if you don't want to freak him out. But you have to tell her, Kendall." He took a deep breath. "And if you don't, I will."

Kendall's eyes shot up to meet James'. "James, please don't," he begged.

"I won't if you do. Kendall, I know you don't want to upset him, but trust me, we're doing him a favor."

". . . I know." He sighed shakily, then glanced at his phone. "We should probably go. We've been in here a while."

James nodded a bit dazedly. He dropped his voice low. "So. . . you'll talk to him tonight?" he asked, and the blonde nodded. "'Cause if you don't want to, I will. I don't mind."

Kendall's heart swelled at that because he didn't think he'd ever seen James look more uncomfortable, and yet here he was, volunteering to take Kendall's place and talk to Logan about something that so clearly scared him.

Kendall shook his head. "No, I'll do it. Thank you though."

James nodded again, then glanced at his own phone. "Yeah man, we really should get back now," he said, and Kendall hummed in agreement. The last thing they needed was another reprimand from any teachers.

They exited the bathroom together, James heading to the right to go back to his class while Kendall entered the stairwell once again.

* * *

James didn't get to speak to Kendall again until later that night. Hockey had practice was long and grueling, as always, and Kendall and Logan parted ways immediately after to go home. Carlos followed James to his own home to play video games for a few hours. James suspected his friend picked up on his mood, for all that he tried to hide it, because Carlos was unusually subdued and left before James and his mother sat down to dinner (another odd action. . . Carlos never refused an opportunity for food). He finally retired to his room a little after 8:30, and immediately texted Kendall.

 ** _You talk to him?_**

The response was strikingly fast. **_No. He went to bed when we got back._**

 ** _You have to talk to him, K._**

 ** _I know._**

 ** _When?_**

 ** _He's asleep right now, James, what do you want me to do?_**

A sigh. ** _What_ _about tomorrow?_**

 ** _If he doesn't pass out as soon as we walk in the door, then yeah. I'll talk to him tomorrow._**

 ** _Do you want me there?_**

Once more, Kendall's heart swelled, and he thanked God that James was his friend. **Only _if you want to. Idek what I'm gonna say tho._**

 ** _Why don't we all talk, all four of us? We can go somewhere after school, and I can fill Carlos in beforehand, that way like. . . idk, maybe it'll help if we all know._**

 ** _Don't tell Carlos._**

 ** _Why?_**

 ** _'Cause I don't want to scare him, okay? How would we even tell him? I can't even think of what to say to Logan and he's the one doing it._**

 ** _He'll find out eventually._**

 ** _Yeah._**

James sighed. Why couldn't Kendall just accept his help? Once Mrs. Knight found out, she'd tell the other mothers anyway. They couldn't keep Carlos in the dark forever, no matter how much they wanted to.

 _ **Okay, your call man.**_

 _ **Thx. I'm gonna head to bed. See you tomorrow.**_

 _ **See you tomorrow.**_

It just so happened that tomorrow was the day everything fell apart.

They made it as far as homeroom. The four of them sat in a block in the left rear corner of the classroom, since the teacher let them pick their seats and the back was ideal for passing notes during the morning announcements. They were never very talkative in the morning; Carlos was usually wide awake, but again, today he was unusually subdued. He came in late, barely making it through the door before the warning bell. Logan was bent over a book. Kendall aimlessly tore at the corner of a notebook page, and James was half asleep on his folded arms, for once not even bothering about his hair. He'd slept terribly the night before and was determined to regain what little sleep he could before classes started.

The teacher sat at her desk, quietly taking roll call as the students went about their own business with each other. The phone behind her desk rang, and she grabbed it and pressed it between her ear and her shoulder, her focus not leaving the paperwork in her hands. "Mrs. Williams speaking," she greeted.

Kendall droned out the rest of the conversation until suddenly the teacher was peering over at their quadrant and speaking.

"Logan?" she called. "The office wants to see you. Take your things."

Kendall vaguely remembered a trip to the amusement park with his father as a child. He'd only been about six or seven at the time, but he'd begged his father to take him on a rather large roller coaster. Mr. Knight complied, and Kendall had been thrilled - until they reached the peak of the first hill. He'd felt his stomach tighten before the cart plummeted downwards, and likewise, Kendall's stomach plummeted in a way he'd never felt before. He felt like all the air had been knocked from his lungs, and he'd been nearly frozen in fear for the rest of the ride. He'd discovered his fear of heights that day.

But now Kendall was very clearly stationary, with his body planted firmly in an uncomfortable classroom chair and not strapped precariously in a large metal cart. He was on flat stable ground, not plunging downwards on a metal rail as he'd done so many years before. And yet suddenly, that same feeling was back again. His eyes darted up to land on Logan just as his stomach took a dive for his gut and nearly doubled him over in fear.

Logan was almost _never_ called to the office. The other three were there regularly, and occasionally he was caught up with them. But he was rarely called down like this. The brunette was clearly confused, and he looked curiously at Kendall before shrugging to himself and grabbing his bag. He stood and headed for the door, sending a questioning glance to Mrs. Williams, who'd already gone back to taking roll. Kendall waited until he had fully exited the room before turning diagonally behind him to a now alert James with a look he was sure could kill.

The taller boy looked equally as confused, and Kendall quickly dismissed any thoughts he'd had about James betraying his trust and telling. James was a good actor, but he wasn't _that_ good, and he was clearly clueless. Kendall glanced briefly at Carlos, who was preoccupied with his phone. The younger boy hadn't even caught on to their concern, thank God. Nevertheless, Kendall shared a concerned glance with James before the bell rang and they were forced to focus their attention to the screen at the front of the room.

Instead of listening as the secretary detailed the day's events, Kendall kept his eyes glued to the door, anxiously waiting for Logan to return. The minutes ticked painfully by, and when the second bell rang to signal the day's first class transition time, Kendall thought he would be sick. He grabbed his bag, eyes never leaving the door, and hurried through the throng of students out into the hallway, scanning both sides as though he expected Logan to come waltzing towards him any minute with a hilarious story about what took him so long. The halls were empty though, albeit only briefly as students poured out of their homerooms and met at their lockers.

Kendall reached his own locker quickly, spinning the combination and yanking the door open as he repeatedly eyed the hallway. He threw his books into his bag, starting when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He spun around. It was James.

"Dude," the taller boy said, clearly shaken. "They wouldn't like. . . call him down there for that, would they?"

"Yeah, probably," Kendall answered, closing his locker door. "If they know, they have to. Remember Lexi Miller?"

Lexi Miller was a girl from their grade. They'd never seen her Tumblr, but word around school said she posted something suicidal. Some kid told a guidance counselor, and the school went on lockdown so that the _police_ could escort her out of class and to the hospital.

That must have been tremendously helpful.

James exhaled even more shakily, clasping his hands together and wringing them. "I promise I didn't say anything," he said. "I would have told you if I did."

Kendall nodded. "It's probably not that," he assured him. "I bet it's like. . . some science thing he did or something like that."

James looked unconvinced, but he didn't say anything. The two stood awkwardly in silence for a moment, before James repositioned his backpack over his shoulder. "I gotta go," he said reluctantly, glancing back at the hallway adjacent to theirs. "Text me, will ya?"

Kendall nodded. "Yeah."

James departed quickly in the hopes of not being late. Kendall didn't care. He meandered down the hallway to his first-period class at a snail's pace, though his thoughts ran like lightning. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced around, looking for teachers. They weren't really supposed to have their phones out in the hallway, even though almost everyone did it anyway. He flipped it open. It was a message from his mother.

 _ **Logan is with me. Come home right after school, please.**_

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AN: Ta da! What did you think? Next chapter should hopefully be up within the next ten days. I can't guarantee one every week, so I'm guestimating every ten days or so. Hopefully I get some time to write in between my _super interesting_ homework assignments. . .

Hope you enjoyed! Please review! God bless you!

-downtonabbey15


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hey guys! So, it's been over a month but here's chapter 5! I'm so sorry for the sporadic updates, but I'm swamped with schoolwork at the moment. I've been on break this whole week and tried to spend as much time writing as possible, but the writer's block has hit me pretty hard right now, lol. Thank you so much for all the sweet responses to this story! I'm so glad you guys like it and thank you so much for the support!**

 **Without further ado, chapter 5!**

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By the time the final bell rang at the end of the school day, Kendall was certain his heart would beat out of his chest. His pulse had pounded in his ears like a drum all day, and he'd found himself physically unable to concentrate since he received that awful message in the morning. He texted his mother immediately, asking what was wrong. She assured him there was no emergency, but said nothing else, and it had literally been _killing him_ the entire day. He was sure he texted Logan at least a hundred times, even though James was the designated text spammer, not Kendall. But Logan answered nothing, and when Kendall was finally able to grab his books and bag and dash out into the hallway, he feared his heart might _actually_ burst through his chest like some awful horror movie.

He yanked open his locker and promptly chucked his books inside because he was fairly certain he wouldn't be getting anything done tonight. He sensed James behind him before he saw him.

"Have you heard anything?" the taller boy asked urgently, asking the same question he'd asked Kendall literally every time he'd seen him that day.

Kendall shook his head. "Don't you think I'd tell you?" he half-snapped. Instantly, he regretted it, but James seemed unfazed. They stood in silence for a while as Kendall hurried to organize his bag, his thoughts reeling. He closed his locker door loudly, then peered nervously up at James.

"What?"

Kendall hesitated. "James. . ."

"I didn't tell," James interrupted forcefully.

Okay, now Kendall was getting a little mad. "I wasn't gonna _accuse_ you, I was just gonna ask."

"Well, I didn't," James repeated. "If I _had_ , I'd at least have told you so you wouldn't freak out like you're doing right now!"

"I'm not freaking out!"

"Kendall, you've literally been _shaking_ all day! You-"

"Hey guys," Carlos greeted as he joined them. He eyed them oddly as he stopped beside Kendall. "I-is everything okay?"

James immediately grew quiet. "Yeah. Kendall's just…worried about that test we have in…geography."

Kendall hurriedly nodded, and Carlos smiled in understanding. "Oh, yeah me too man. I'm gonna bomb it, but oh well." He shrugged, then lifted his hand in a wave. "See ya guys later."

James' brow furrowed. "Aren't you coming to Kendall's?" It had been written in stone for as long as they could remember; they _always_ gathered at the Knight's house if they didn't have hockey practice. Brooke Diamond couldn't stand the destruction that inevitably trailed them, and they could never have any privacy at Carlos' house. Kendall's was the only option, really.

Carlos shook his head regretfully. "Nah, I can't. My dad's been on my case about my math grade, and I have a test tomorrow." Reluctantly, he waved again. "Bye."

Kendall and James mumbled their own departing words and waited until their younger friend was out of earshot.

"Do you still want me to come over?" James offered.

Kendall hesitated. "Um. . . my mom wants me home right away, so. . . I don't know if. . ." He wasn't quite sure how to say, "She might not want any of you guys over," without being rude. That wasn't a sentence that had ever come out of his mouth. _Ever._

Thankfully, James seemed to understand and didn't look upset in the slightest. "Just. . . call me, okay? If you need me to come over."

Kendall nodded mutely.

James couldn't think of anything else to say, so he gave what he hoped seemed like a small smile and not a grimace before turning and heading towards the buses. Kendall didn't feel like bothering with the bus; it wasn't even a ten-minute drive to his neighborhood, and he could use the walk, he reasoned, to clear his head. He hefted his backpack over his shoulder and hurried to the front of the building.

He arrived home in record time, even though he only walked. He remained hesitantly on the porch for a moment, the same sense of dread from before coming upon him once again as he slowly pushed open the door. The house was eerily still, save for the sounds he could hear coming from the kitchen. His mother, he presumed. Kendall dropped his backpack to the ground and hurried through the foyer, pausing at the doorway that separated the hallway from the kitchen and living room. His mother sat hunched over at the kitchen table, sorting through a large pile of what Kendall assumed were likely bills.

He cleared his throat. "Where's Logan?"

His mother turned sharply at the sound of his voice, before realizing it was him. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Where's Logan?" Kendall repeated, coming closer to her.

Mrs. Knight took a shaky breath. "Sweetie, come and sit down," she said gently, nodding to the chair beside her. Kendall was prepared to ask his question a third time before she cut him off. "He's upstairs, he's fine," she said quickly. "Just. . . please come and sit down."

Kendall hesitated but complied, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to hide how much he was trembling. He prayed his mother couldn't see his unease.

Mrs. Knight swallowed hard. "Kendall," she began. "I know. . . that the last few months haven't been easy on any of us." She seemed to struggle to find the right words. "Um. . . but, apparently, Logan's been having a very hard time."

"I know," Kendall said quietly.

His mother fell silent immediately. "What do you know?" she asked carefully.

Tears pressed against the back of Kendall's eyes and he blinked furiously in an effort to resist the urge to cry. He suddenly felt horribly overwhelmed. He'd taken care of his friends for as long as he could remember. It was his job, his born duty. Not a day had gone by when he hadn't been able to help them with something in some way. He knew he couldn't solve every problem, only God could do that. But never before had Kendall felt so utterly defeated and powerless. Never before had he been completely unable to help one of his friends, and Kendall knew in an instant that this was likely the most horrible feeling he'd ever felt.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "About. . . what he's been doing."

He'd clearly shocked his mother a bit, and she took a moment to form the right words. "K-... sweetie, h-how long have you known about that?"

Kendall shook his head. "Only a few days," he answered. He was sure he was in for a lecture and likely a significant grounding, but he didn't care. "James told you, didn't he?" He wasn't even angry at James, not really. He supposed if their situation were in some way reversed and it had been James who'd told him something like this, he probably would have told too.

His mother didn't look angry, just confused, and her brow furrowed almost impossibly further as she pondered his last question. "Mrs. Garcia called me and told me this morning," she explained carefully.

 _Um. . . what?_

"Carlos' mom?" Kendall asked, astonished.

Mrs. Knight was clearly perplexed and a bit unnerved that it seemed all the boys had been aware of such a serious issue. "Yes," she answered. "She said he overheard you and James talking in the bathroom at school." She crossed her arms on the table and leaned closer to him. "Kendall, why didn't you come to _me_ with this?"

He knew his mother wasn't angry, but she had a look on her face that was clearly a mix of disappointment and worry. Kendall would've preferred angry compared to that. "I only found out this weekend," he explained. "He doesn't even know I know."

"He does now."

 _Okay, way to throw me to the wolves mom...thanks..._

"But why didn't you tell me the day I got back?" she continued. "This is so incredibly _dangerous_ , Kendall-"

"I know. . ."

"-what were you thinking?"

"I didn't want to upset you," Kendall protested. "You were already upset about grandma and I thought this would just make it worse."

Mrs. Knight said nothing, just sighed and ran a hand across her face.

"I'm sorry. . ."

His mother looked up quickly, shaking her head. "No, I-I'm not upset with you Kendall," she said quietly. "I'm just scared." She glanced at her watch. "I have to go pick up Katie," she announced, rising from the table. "Keep an eye on Logan, please. He's upstairs."

Kendall nodded, watching her slip on her coat and grab her bag.

"What's gonna happen now?" he asked.

His mother stopped. "Well. . . we're going to help him, honey," she said a bit perplexedly, brow furrowing.

"I know, but. . . he's gonna stay here, right?"

Mrs. Knight stopped, her brow furrowing before she pulled her chair out and sat down again. "Kendall, they're. . . they're not going to _take him_. Is that what you thought?"

Kendall hesitated, then nodded mutely.

"Oh, honey. . . why on earth would you think that?"

 _Really?_ _I can only hear you and the social worker duking it out every week over the phone when you think we're asleep..._

"Because of what they said when we took him," Kendall answered.

There had been concerns when they'd tried to adopt Logan. Quite a few, actually. All three of their families offered to take Logan in when his father was arrested. They were generous, of course, but their offers proved to be unrealistic. The Garcias had four children, and Mrs. Garcia helped care for her aging parents in addition to her family. A fifth child would be quite impossible, no matter how willing they were. The Diamonds had only just settled their divorce, and James and his younger sister were currently being hurled back and forth every other weekend between their parents' separate houses. It wasn't a stable environment at all, and the court wasn't about to inflict that on Logan. The Knights were the only option other than foster care, and Kendall knew his mother (and Carlos and James' parents) would fight tooth and nail before that would ever happen.

But Jennifer Knight's salary barely covered her own family, and the court was extremely reluctant to place Logan under her charge. But he was fourteen; old enough, according to the court, to be able to say his piece before the judge and choose what he felt was best for himself. And of course, he chose the Knights. But he wasn't even legally adopted, only "fostered" and Kendall was certain he'd never hated a word so much. His mother was working hard with the social worker, a sweet older woman named Mara, to complete the necessary paperwork to adopt him, but he'd heard the whispered conversations over the phone and in the kitchen in the evening during the woman's weekly visit. The court didn't feel Mrs. Knight was financially capable of supporting three children, and if they felt the burden would grow too heavy or that Logan would be put in harm's way, they had every legal right to remove him and put him in some home until he was either adopted or aged out of the system. And Kendall was sure that Logan being in enough emotional distress to resort to cutting himself may cause the court some alarm. They could very well take Logan away from him and Carlos and James.

Kendall would die before he let that happen.

"Honey," his mother continued, pulling him from his thoughts. "No one's going to take him."

"Are you sure?"

Mrs. Knight nodded. "I'm sure. Everything is under control, I promise. Mara is gonna make sure he stays here. He's not going anywhere."

". . . What about this?"

His mother exhaled slowly. "I don't know yet," she admitted. "We're gonna have a talk, and we're gonna get him help. But I _promise_ you he's not going anywhere, okay?"

Kendall nodded, and his mother stood again. "Call me if you need me," she instructed firmly. "I'll be home soon." She planted a kiss on the top of his head. "I love you."

"Love you too."

The door closed softly behind her, and Kendall suddenly felt small and horribly alone in the kitchen by himself. He hurried to the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the door of his shared bedroom. It was, expectedly, closed. He knocked lightly. "Logan?" No answer came, and Kendall didn't hesitate to push the door open.

Logan sat cross-legged on his bed with a book in front of him. His face was cupped in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. He didn't even flinch as Kendall entered.

"Logie?" Kendall tried again, softer now that he was in the room.

The brunette's red-rimmed eyes darted up from the book he had been reading. "How long did you know?" he asked hoarsely. It was clear he had been crying.

Kendall swallowed hard as he felt tears well up in his own eyes.

"How long?" Logan repeated, his voice rising.

"A few days," Kendall answered quickly. "Just, since Saturday. That's all."

"How?"

He hesitated. ". . . I found a blade in your backpack, Loge."

Logan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. "You went through my stuff?!"

"No!" Kendall said hurriedly. "Not like that. I-I was looking for ibuprofen for you, and. . . I just found it."

"And you didn't think to ask me? Instead you told your mom?!"

"I didn't tell her!"

"Then who did? Oh, _wait_. Mrs. Garcia told her today, and you know what that means? That means you told James and Carlos without even _asking_ me!"

"Carlos heard us talking, _I_ didn't tell him."

Logan folded his arms across his chest. "But you told James?"

Kendall hesitated, then nodded. He wasn't quite sure what to do with _this_ Logan. Usually _he_ did the interrogating, not the other way around. _This_ Logan was clearly _mad_ , an emotion Kendal wasn't used to seeing in his younger friend. It was unsettling. "I only told him because I didn't know what to do," he said quietly.

"You didn't have to _do_ anything!" Logan snapped. "It wasn't your business!"

Kendall scoffed. "Uh, you're my best friend and my _brother_ , and you live in _my house_ so _yeah!_ That makes it my business! You need help, Logan!"

"I have it under control!"

Had their conversation been about literally anything else, Kendall would have laughed out loud, because as much as Logan liked to be in control, he never had _anything_ under control. "Under control?!" he repeated, almost angry now since Logan couldn't seem to understand. He took a daunting step forward, hoping to frighten away whatever was standing in front of him because it certainly wasn't Logan. "You had a razor blade in your _schoolbag_ , Logan! Roll up your sleeves and tell me _that's_ under control! Roll 'em up!"

That seemed to strike a chord because the unfamiliar fire in Logan's eyes quickly died and was replaced with a look of fear. "No," he said quickly, trying to take a step back even though his bed was directly behind him.

Kendall softened as he realized Logan was no longer on the verge of biting his head off. "You need help, Logan," he said again, his eyes pleading.

The odd, unusual sheen of boldness that had been present when Kendall first entered had quickly deteriorated, replaced by Logan's normal, nervous exterior. "I don't," he insisted. His own eyes were pleading as well, only for a different reason.

"You _do_."

". . . Just stay out of it. Please."

"I'm not gonna stay out of it!" Kendall cried. "I just want to help you, Logan."

"I don't need help," Logan repeated. He grabbed his jacket from where it was draped over the back of his desk chair.

"Yes, you- . . . What are you doing?"

"I'm going for a walk," Logan responded, quickly slipping the jacket on over his long-sleeved shirt. Kendall moved for the door at the same time he did and closed it, keeping his hand pressed firmly against the wood.

"No." The words came out cool and smooth and calm even though Kendall was anything but.

Logan's anxiousness remained but a bit of the fire from before seemed to return. "Kendall, _please_ ," he said, almost as calmly.

Kendall could see the shorter boy was starting to shake, and the realization only made his stomach twist even more than it already had. "No," he repeated firmly, pushing the door closed again when Logan tried the knob.

Logan's watery eyes met his own for a split second before he tried to force the door open. Kendall fought to keep it closed, wedging himself between the door and Logan as the younger boy attempted to shove him out of the way.

"Logan," Kendall muttered between clenched teeth as he tried to push the shorter boy away. "No!" He took a firm hold of his forearms and didn't miss the wince of pain that quickly flashed across Logan's face. To his surprise, Logan nearly wrenched his arms out of Kendall's grasp in an effort to get away. Kendall managed to snag hold of his jacket and pulled him forward, then forcefully slammed him up against the wall adjacent to the doorway. Logan's head collided with the wall with a sickening crack; not hard enough to hurt him, but definitely enough to leave a nasty bump. "You're not going anywhere!" he cried. "I just want to help you!"

"You can't!" Logan shouted, shoving Kendall away with a strength the blonde didn't know he possessed.

"Yes, I can!"

"You _can't,_ Kendall," Logan snapped again, nearly enraged. "You can't fix this. You don't get it."

"Then make me get it! Help me understand!"

Logan said nothing, instead yanking the door open so hard it bounced against the wall as he stormed out into the hallway and hurried down the stairs. Kendall wasn't far behind. "Logan, please," he begged. "I just want to talk."

"Well, I _don't_." Logan grabbed his sneakers from their position by the doorway and slipped them on.

Kendall stopped beside him, a hand resting on the railing of the staircase. "But I _do._ I just want to-"

"I don't care what you want, Kendall!" Logan shouted the sentence with so much anger that Kendall fell silent. "You can't always help everyone, okay?! You don't understand this at _all_ , so how about you stay out of my business for once in your life and let me handle something myself!" He threw open the front door and hurried down the front walkway, narrowly avoiding slipping on a large patch of ice.

Kendall caught the door before it slammed and quickly swallowed the hurt-filled lump in his throat. He stared at Logan's retreating back and spent nearly a minute debating whether or not to follow and drag him back inside. When Logan eventually disappeared around the corner of the block, Kendall shut the door loudly and let himself fall back against it with a sigh.

Maybe he really couldn't fix everything. Because he'd tried, and clearly. . . he'd just made everything worse.

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 **AN: So. . . oh good gracious I hate that ending but I have such bad writer's block right now for some reason. I'm working on like five different Big Time Rush stories lol, and I'm super excited about them. I'm really trying to keep this story on a schedule, but I have a ton of schoolwork so it's hard. Please bare with me guys.**

 **Anyway, please tell me what you thought! I hope you enjoyed! God bless you!**

 **-downtonabbey15**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hey guys! Here's chapter 6! Thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-downtonabbey15**

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The cold air whipped harshly against Logan's cheeks, though his skin had gone numb long ago. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been walking, and he didn't care so long as he recognized his surroundings. He was half-frozen; going out while he felt the way he did probably wasn't his smartest idea, he had stupidly grabbed a windbreaker on his way out the door rather than his winter coat, and he was paying for it now. He kept his hands plunged in his pockets to preserve some circulation, but his head wasn't as lucky. Oh, well, he thought bitterly. He probably deserved the biting cold.

He was a genuinely awful friend. He really was. He'd already put his friends through the wringer the past few months; despite his best efforts, Kendall had managed to find out the truth about his home life, and the Garcias and the Diamonds and the Knights had bent over backward to make sure he was taken care of after his father's arrest. But he felt horrible putting Mrs. Knight out the way he was. She already struggled to make ends meet, and Logan knew Kendall had contributed his own money in the past to help his mother. The last thing they needed was another mouth to feed.

And a messed-up mouth at that.

He wasn't quite sure when he decided to use a blade to solve his problems. His father's treatment of him had been horrible from an early age, but he was used to it. He was used to a punch or a kick every so often, and even more used to the constant barrage of insults fired his way. He was used to feeling like an inconvenience.

But he wasn't used to feeling like a burden to his friends. He'd felt that way before, yes. They were all athletic and clever and could pick up girls faster than a sponge mopped up water. He was nothing like them, and he often wondered if they only kept him around because they weren't completely heartless and knew he'd have no one without them. But they'd always gone out of their way to fight his feelings of inferiority. They knew Logan didn't have the esteem they had and worked overtime to make sure he felt as confident as they did. And yet here he was, undoing all their good work one cut at a time. Logan Mitchell, the smart one, the one who always cautioned against anything too dangerous, no longer felt any reservations about dragging a blade across his forearms.

He was so messed up he couldn't stand it.

He slowed his pace when he realized it was getting considerably darker out and glanced around at his surroundings a bit uneasily. He was in the south part of town, near James' dad's house, and he relaxed a bit. It wasn't a bad area, and he and his friends knew it well since James spent Wednesday evenings and every other weekend there. But it was early January, and even though it was still mid-afternoon, the sun was setting quickly, and the temperature was dropping. His stomach clenched at the thought of returning ho- to the Knights' house (it would never be home because, despite their hospitality, he still felt like a guest overstaying his welcome). He was positive Kendall would refuse to speak to him, and he already knew Mrs. Knight was going to sit him down and try to discuss what she'd learned that afternoon. She'd been gracious enough to let him isolate himself in his room all day after she brought him home, so the inevitable discussion was sure to be held the minute he got back.

He heaved a sigh and changed direction, realizing he would have to pass James' dad's house but thanking God it was Tuesday and not Wednesday; James would be at his mother's if he wasn't with Carlos or Kendall.

Speaking of which, he was honestly pretty surprised they hadn't formed a small search party to find him yet. Not that he wanted them to, but he was sure Kendall would've alerted the others to his disappearance. He fully expected dozens of messages to have bombarded his phone ages ago, but none came. Shrugging it off, he continued down the sidewalk, passing Andrew Diamond's house on the corner and nearing the street when suddenly a voice called out, "Hey Logan!"

Logan froze in his tracks as his stomach dropped. He turned ever so hesitantly, only to be greeted with the sight of James standing eagerly on his father's front porch in only jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. He looked half-frozen, but he was grinning none-the-less.

James waved at him to come, and Logan suddenly had the futile and unhelpful desire to beat a calendar to death because it was _Tuesday_ and James was supposed to be at his _mother's house_ and not _here_. The Diamonds' custody agreement worked like a well-oiled clock, specifically designed so that James' mother and father didn't have to see, hear, and/or be in remotely the same vicinity as each other at any time unless it was absolutely spent Wednesdays and every other weekend with his father, sister, step-mother, and half-brother It was rare for him to be there otherwise.

As he retraced his steps and headed up the driveway, Logan briefly entertained the thought that maybe his friends had orchestrated this. They couldn't have known where he was walking, but he was certain Kendall Knight could devise a way to intercept him. Maybe the three of them were posted as lookouts at different locations. Or maybe they'd gathered all their extended siblings (because there were actually quite a lot of children in all four families) and made them pose as moles at different areas in town with walkie talkies and they'd all secretly been tracking him since he'd left Kendall's house.

Okay, that one wasn't as likely, but still. Kendall would do something of the sort.

Logan crested the driveway and hesitated before climbing the stairs to the porch. James was still smiling his classic smile, and he didn't look in the least bit concerned to see Logan walking in twenty-degree weather in only a windbreaker. Then again, James wasn't very observant.

"Hey!" the taller boy said brightly.

"Uh, hey James."

"I didn't know you were out here," James chuckled. "I was just waiting for my dad, and I saw you. Where's Kendall?"

. . . He didn't know? Maybe Kendall really _had_ stayed out of his business for once, he thought. That or James was tricking him. He'd been taking a lot of acting classes lately, but he hadn't mastered the art of lying to his friends yet. Tricking was unlikely. He supposed maybe Kendall had just let him be for once.

It was what he wanted, but it didn't feel as good as he'd thought it would.

"Um, he's at his place, he had homework. I just felt like a walk, so. . ."

"Did you eat dinner yet?"

He shook his head.

James grinned again and threw an arm over his shoulder, leading him through the open door. "Come on; I was just gonna order something." He shut the door behind them. "You want pizza?"

"Uh, sure. James, where's your dad? Isn't it Tuesday?"

James chuckled as he began to head towards the kitchen. "Yeah, but-" He stopped abruptly as he tripped over a large toy truck on the ground. He kicked it out of the way and huffed. "Landon!" he shouted to his brother up the staircase beside them. "Pick up your crap!"

Logan had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling. "Dude, he's four."

"And he knows where the friggin' toy chest is," James countered, although he was clearly amused and not angry. "Anyway, my dad and Nikki are in the ER."

"Oh my gosh, are they okay?"

James was _grinning_ ear to ear like a drunken idiot and Logan was a bit concerned for a moment. "He's fine. He ran over his foot with the snow blower." He promptly cracked up laughing as he made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a takeout menu off the fridge.

"Um . . . dare I ask how?"

James snickered as he grabbed the phone off the wall. "Apparently there was a chunk of ice stuck in the blade, so he decided to kick it out. While it was _still running_."

He really shouldn't have laughed, since James' dad could have quite literally had his foot amputated right then and there, but he couldn't suppress the chuckle that slipped past his lips. He felt a bit better to see that James was much more amused, and considering it was _his dad_. . .

"Yeah, I didn't see it, but-"

"I did!" Landon Diamond came sprinting down the stairs at full speed and slid to a stop in front of Logan. "It was awesome!" he shouted, looking _genuinely_ thrilled. "The blood spurted out just like Jurassic Park and Dad was all like, 'AHHHH, GET YOUR MOTHER!' And mom was all like, 'OH MY GOSH, ANDY!' And Dad was rolling all around on the ground like, 'GUHHH AHHRGHHHHI!' He proceeded to roll about on the floor to demonstrate, clutching his foot in mock pain. He popped back up to his feet a moment later, all smiles once again. "And he literally almost bled to death on the driveway and Mom was freaking out and me and Macey were kind of laughing but then Mom yelled at us and told us to call Jamie but we didn't 'cause I don't know his number and so Mom called and-"

"Landon!" James interrupted, chuckling. "Take a breath."

"Oh!" the boy exclaimed. "Right!" He sucked in a massive gulp of air, puffing his cheeks out.

Logan looked to James as if for confirmation, and James nodded. "Yeah, Nikki freaked out," he chuckled. "She called me and was like," he raised his voice to a mockingly higher pitch, "'JAMES YOUR DAD CUT HIS FOOT OFF YOU NEED TO GET OVER HERE AND WATCH THE KIDS SO I CAN TAKE HIM TO THE ER!' And she literally put him in the car and _waited_ until I got here to take him to the hospital. It's a good thing he didn't actually cut his foot off, 'cause he'd literally be dead. I've never seen her freak out like- Landon, oh my gosh let it out, dude!"

Landon was beet red, cheeks still puffed out until he obeyed James' sudden command and exhaled as dramatically as possible. Their 12-year-old sister Macey had only just come down the stairs and sent James a questioning look. He shook his head in amusement as Landon began to rattle on once again.

"And we had to bring down all the towels and give 'em to mom and there was a _trail of blood_ all down the driveway and mom made us shovel snow on it so it didn't look like we stabbed someone out there. And . . ."

Logan turned, letting Landon ramble as Macey waved a hand in front of his face. She knelt and leaned on the back of the couch, clearly amused.

 _'Our stepmom is crazy,_ ' she signed slowly, mouthing the words so he would understand. _'There wasn't that much blood.'_

"There was too!" Landon shouted.

 _'There was not!'_

Landon clapped his hands over his eyes. "If I can't see you, I can't listen!"

Macey rolled her eyes as James snorted and quickly typed on her phone before holding the device out to Logan. _'Why do you think they called him to babysit? That's what I get now.'_ She gestured amusedly to Landon (still temporarily blinding himself and still talking. . . Logan wondered if he ever ran out of air, what with the way he was going).

Logan chuckled as James began to rattle off pizza choices to the person on the phone. He tucked the receiver between his ear and shoulder and signed something to Macey, and two began an insanely fast and silent conversation that left Logan feeling completely lost. He sometimes forgot that James was literally fluent in ASL, and he found himself in awe for what was probably the thousandth time as he watched his friend hold an entire conversation with his hands.

Macey had had an awful stutter when they were younger, and Brooke Diamond had dragged her to half a dozen speech therapists until finally, one suggested she learn to sign and speak simultaneously. Pausing to remember each sign would help slow down her speech and consequently help her stutter. Which worked just great, considering Macey didn't utter a single word now. Why stutter when she could sign just fine? Logan assumed it was incredibly awkward; Macey could hear, and she went to regular school, but she wouldn't speak. He didn't know how the family explained it to other people. And as far as he knew, James was the only person who actually _signed back_ to her. He'd spent months on half a dozen apps and websites so that he'd be able to understand her.

James Diamond was absolutely _not_ the conceited air-head most people thought him to be.

The taller boy hung up the phone tossed the menu haphazardly onto the kitchen counter, then leaned down by Landon's ear. "Hey," he said quietly. "I'll tell you what: if you clean your room, I'll let you eat your pizza on the couch."

Landon's eyes grew comically wide, and Logan bit his lip to keep from laughing. Landon was the most accident-prone child he'd ever seen, and he was forbidden from taking any food or drink from the kitchen. The living room carpet proved he'd disobeyed the order on several occasions, but clearly, the prospect of being _permitted_ to potentially stain the furniture was like a dream come true. "No way," he whispered, grinning.

James raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Way."

Landon whooped and darted for the stairs, shouting excitedly until he reached his room and slammed the door shut. Macey sighed and pushed herself off the couch, already prepared to follow him. She gave a knowing look to James, who chuckled. "Yeah, please make sure he doesn't find anything alive up there."

She grimaced (because that wasn't too farfetched of a scenario) and bounded quickly up the stairs after her brother.

James rolled his eyes in amusement and returned his attention to Logan. "I got cheese, that okay?" he asked, referring to their pizza.

"Sure," Logan shrugged, a bit uneasy now that they were alone again.

James said nothing, even though Logan was positive he knew what had gone down at Kendall's. James had the same masking expression that he'd plastered on his face when he was eleven years old and his parents announced they were getting a divorce; it was unreadable to anyone but those close to him, and the boys had long since become adept at seeing through James' poker face. They knew when he was hiding something. And considering he'd let Logan inside the house and actually put an arm around him while he still looked, sounded, and sort of felt like the walking dead . . .

Logan tried to fight the quelling urge to run now that Macey and Landon had left since he knew James wouldn't say anything in front of them. He subconsciously grabbed the sleeves of his jacket and held them firmly in his hands. If James noticed, he didn't say. Instead, he opened basement door (their usual gathering place) and motioned for Logan to go ahead.

Logan tried to give him a small smile as he began to head down the stairs, but he was sure it only came out as a grimace. He heard James follow behind him, closing the door but setting it slightly ajar so he could listen for the food to arrive.

So much for running.

* * *

 **AN: Was that okay? I don't like the ending so much, but this chapter would've been way too long if I kept going, so I stopped. Tell me what you think! I've got. a lot of school work, so I'm sorry for the delays in the chapters, but thank you guys for sticking with this story! Please view! God bless you!**

 **-downtonabbey15**


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